Like the Sky
by SeungSeiRan
Summary: They say love is life. And what is life but all sky? Eight Hwoarang x Julia oneshots. The first installment of my 'Love Comes Naturally..' trilogy.
1. Admiration

Author's note: What can I say? I L-O-V-E this couple! That should entitle them to a one-shot series of their own shouldn't it? Smirks. Anyway, on with the show!

Disclaimer: I don't own Tekken.

**1. Admiration**

There are a number of ways to describe a mosh-pit. To begin with, the noise. Whoops, hollers, jeers, and sneers being emitted from the motley crowd of spectators. Petty crooks, gangsters and plain low-lives gathered together to feast their roving eyes on the spectacle before them. Most of them were intoxicated as they climbed up the metal frames surrounding the arena where the two women fought. The very sight of them attracted an array of wolf-whistles and catcalls. One in somewhat stereotypical Native American attire, the other in her trademark scarlet quipao. And then there were the smells. Sweat and beer-breath interspersed with tobacco and smoke. It was no place for any women to be caught dead or alive in. Hwoarang should know. He'd attended as well as participated in several events akin to this one.

But he knew Julia never had. And that was what scared him.

Sure, she was strong. Mentally as well as physically. More than any other woman he'd ever known. And there had been a lot of them in his life. Nothing more than mere sex toys. He'd lost his own virginity at the age of seventeen. With a class-mate of a reputation as loose as the garments he'd stripped her off of. Their 'relationship' had lasted for two weeks before the artificial pleasure had left them both. Last time he'd heard, she'd been pounding the pavement of a certain red-light district in fish-nets and mesh blouses. God knows how many abortions she must have had by now. After her, there had been a deluge of them. Brunettes, bottle-blondes, tall and statuesque, small and petite. Oh, they adored him alright. Their pouting and posturing had said too much. And he'd given them what they wanted in return for what he felt he 'deserved'. Drunk or sober, he was always up for the action.

The soulless women, the endless street-fights, the endless supply of booze… it was a heady mix. They were only temporary but they'd kept him satisfied for a while. Until that void in his heart would begin to trouble him and keep him up on certain nights. Then, he would think back to that time. When he had lost his virginity. His spiritual virginity, his innocence. That had died a long time ago. On the hard and fast streets of Seoul, done in by hunger for food, warmth and love. The Korean had had to fight to live for almost every day of his childhood. He had earned several scars from his troubles. Too bad they weren't just the superficial type. No one, not even the man he had come to see as a father could erase them. The memories were vivid and they would be on auto-replay in his head. The next day, he would seek out a new high and, hence, end up repeating the vicious cycle he had created for himself.

But then, life had taken a new turn. He had been nineteen, on the brink of manhood, when that fateful draw had occurred. When Toshin had attacked Master Baek. He soon had a new rival in the form of Jin Kazama and a new aim in life. He'd pushed himself to his very limits in training before entering the third King of the Iron Fist tournament.

It was here that Hwoarang had met Julia Chang.

Not exactly love or even _like_ at first sight. He remembered thinking that she looked like she stepped out of a comic-book with that get-up, feathers in her hair and everything. To compound matters, she hadn't been too pleased when he'd knocked her down in his hurry to register. Not the best way to sweep a girl off her feet. Still, she had been nowhere near as annoying as that Chinese ditz with the irritating laugh. Ironically, it had been the nuisance that was Ling Xiaoyu that had finally bonded them. Julia hadn't been too fond of the Jin Kazama-obsessed fangirl either. They'd had quite a few laughs at the latter's expense.

He had found her determination amusing at first. Just another pretty girl with a goal similar to his.

But that had before he actually saw her fight.

Nothing fancy in her technique. No acrobatics or flashy moves. But there was passion. Pure, unadulterated passion. Whether hers was enough to match his was questionable but it had been enough for him to feel the first few twinges of admiration. She had been some girl.

Two years later, she had grown into some woman. It was no wonder she hid those curves under her jeans. Man, she would probably have to put her fists to good use to beat off the guys had she worn something skimpier. And she still had the passion flowing through her veins. She never needed to shout it out loud like some people. Because Hwoarang could feel it. Flowing through to him like an invisible wave onto his coast. He had to admit the twinges had grown into something else. Something more than attraction or lust. The only woman who had found the chink in his black armor and the way to his heart.

He denied it. Kept on denying it to himself. He had lost the ability to love. He was a lost cause. The battle between his present and past raged on; he could, he couldn't. He _could_. He _couldn't_.

The raucous cackle brought him out of his reverie.

"OWW! Watch that pussy get owned!"

Hwoarang snapped his gaze back to the arena.

Anna Williams was most definitely a formidable opponent. Right now, she had her younger, less-experienced adversary in an arm-lock. Hwoarang winced inwardly as he heard Julia's cry of pain. Sadistic as she was, the Irishwoman launched a new barrage of attacks.

He tried to block the shrieks out of his mind. He failed.

What was that she had told him yesterday?

"_You have to have courage to listen to your heart, Hwoarang." _

He realized he was a coward as she was knocked out. All he could do was watch through blurred vision as she slumped to the ground. He never heard the referee declare the winner. He never heard the mocking hoots directed at the loser.

"_It's never too late to change."_

Hwoarang heard his own voice echoing in his mind as he crawled through the metal frames and into the arena. He ignored their stares as he made his way over to her.

There she lay, beaten and broken. He turned her around onto her back so that she faced him. She looked pale and ashen, a line of blood trailing from her mouth.

"Julia." He called out softly. "Julia, can you hear me?"

The lowest of whimpers told him she was at least conscious.

"It's me." But she knew that already. She opened her eyes and a stream of tears ensued. He wiped them away.

"Come on, I'll get you some help."

Having said that, he lifted her up like she was a child.

"Don't worry. It'll be fine."

She smiled sadly as she clung to him.


	2. Forgiveness

Author's note: This one's kinda AU and from Julia's POV this time.

**2. Forgiveness**

Julia hated night-clubs. She hated the drunk, fake ambience. She hated the drunk, fake patrons with their screechy laughter and turbo-charged libidos. But she especially hated the stoned, hollow-eyed excuses for 'musicians' who played there. And here arose a question in her mind.

_What am I _doing _here?_

She got her answer when the manageress tapped the mic on-stage.

"Alright, everyone! Give it up for 'Sky Rush'!"

Spirits, why _that _name? What had they been thinking? What had _he _been thinking? Oh Hwoarang…

Her train of thought was interrupted by a medley of high-pitched screams from the band's fan-girls. Or more specifically, _Hwoarang's_ fan-girls. Pffft, the sluts…

But she had to admit, their idol _was _a piece of male eye-candy. Indeed. Typical rock-star attire of black leather jacket and tight denim jeans. Ouch. And his signature biker-goggles completed the ensemble. She'd always thought they'd made him look ridiculous and she'd told him that too. In typical Hwoarang style, he'd begun to wear them more often in defiance. She still thought them silly and unnecessary although she had never told him the real reason for her dislike of them. It was because she had liked the way his hair framed his face when it was loose. She liked the way it instantly softened his features. But then again, she wasn't one to feed egos. Or –

"I LOVE YOU, HWOARANG! EEEEEEK!"

Ugh, in any case, she hated _them_. Loud, annoying, overly perky. Even more so when inebriated. Teenage girls, barely legal. Long legs, small chests, minuscule clothing. Willing to go to extreme measures in order to get a piece of him. She bet he just loved the attention. He knew he was hot. He had the charm and the experience. After all, what woman could resist a bad-ass rocker with a silver-streak voice? She knew that he knew that _she _knew that.

The opening guitar riffs momentarily distracted her. His voice cut through the night like a sword; sleek and smooth. It sent shivers up and down her spine. He could play her just as well as he could play that guitar in his arms. Didn't he know that? Maybe, maybe not. The song was called 'Alone in the Dark' and she loved it. The lyrics were dark, a little disturbing, yet not utterly depressive. And the best thing was… it was totally Hwoarang.

She had never known he could sing. Let alone write actual lyrics. She'd just happened to overhear him in his garage. His voice had a nice tone. Not too high or too rough. She remembered the look on his face when he'd spotted her. She remembered him storming out in embarrassment. The red colour of his cheeks had clashed horribly with his similarly-coloured locks. As she recalled, it taken quite some time to persuade him to sing _for_ her. Baby steps.

She'd sat next to him, doing her home-work whilst he strummed away. Alternatively, she'd helped him write a few songs. They actually sounded better in music than on paper. One thing had lead to another and the band was formed. Hwoarang on vocals and lead guitars, Jeung on bass, and Kim on drums. As to where they had come up with a name like 'Sky Rush', she had no idea. There were lots of things about Hwoarang she had no idea about.

She knew that he had lived with Baek since he was nine. She knew that his favourite colour was red. He always picked out the olives from his pizza because he hated the taste. His favourite bands were Linkin Park, Metallica, and Korn. He was not a morning person and God help you if you woke him up before ten. He liked gory slasher-flicks. The more decapitations, the better. He hated Jin Kazama. He sometimes hung out with Steve Fox. This much and more she knew about him.

On the other hand, there were many, so many things that made him more of an enigma than his own arch-rival. His previous life on the streets was a closed book which he kept hidden under a veil of confidence and wise-cracks. He preferred to keep it that way. But there had been certain times…

Sometimes, whenever he was lost in a crowd, whenever he watched the kids play in the park, whenever he thought no one was watching, he'd get that look in his eyes. Lonely, lost, hurt,… _sad_.

Sad.

And as she watched him, she would cry without shedding tears. Her heart cried for the pain he felt. For the wounds which refused to heal. For all the words left unspoken between them. And for the fact that he refused to let her help him. That was what hurt her the most.

They'd carried on with that façade long enough. Pretending everything was all shiny and hunky-dory in their world. They could have gone on with it for a little while longer in fact. Except that it had culminated in _that _night.

Julia closed her eyes. The music faded and the bright lights began to dim around her as she remembered.

_The sound of a wailing guitar was faint at first. As she got closer, she could feel the familiar vibrations giving rise to goose-bumps on her skin. It was emotion in its purest, rawest form. She reached the door and cracked it open._

_Hwoarang was practically ripping into the instrument. His hair was loose and unkept so she couldn't see his face. Melody after melody crashed down like the waves of a tsunami. Filled with rage and pain. His bare fingers lashing out on the strings, each chord telling their own story. No bright beginnings, no happy endings. Desperate, hopeless, loveless. No set of lyrics could have ever captured what he was feeling at that moment. The emotional strain soon took its toll and his breathing grew more and more ragged. The wordless song was sucking the life out of his lithe body and his knees began to buckle. And then, like a sigh of dismay, he cried out softly before collapsing. She caught him just in time._

_The black-out didn't last too long and he was sitting up in a matter of minutes. Pale as a spectre and eyes just as bloodshot. He hadn't even noticed that his fingers were bleeding from the harsh session they'd had to endure earlier. He just sat in silence as she attended to them, her hands trembling as she did so._

"_They never loved me."_

_The non-sequiter had come from nowhere. She turned her attention from his fingers to his eyes. They were empty._

"_My parents."_

"_I'm sorry."_

_Of course, 'sorry' was too insipid a word to offer any comfort. Maybe she could have said more if he hadn't kissed her._

_His lips had felt cold against hers. The kiss was chaste. No action involved. Nothing to brag about._

_The next day, they had both acted like it had never happened._

The tear rolled down her cheek and splashed onto the fibre-glass table-top.

The girls had resumed their screaming. Declarations of love as fake and plastic as their cheap designer knock-off boots and bags. They wanted Hwoarang the rock-star with a mean voice and hard edge. The Blood Talon famed for taking down multiple opponents within the minute they had crossed him. The player who always got the girl.

Unlike them, all she had ever wanted was Hwoarang. Plain and simple.

The guy who threw tantrums when he lost to her at video-games. The guy who had snapped her bra-strap when they had been watching a horror film just to freak her out. The guy who had smashed her ex-boyfriend's head into a wall when he had caught him cheating on her. The guy who couldn't stand to see her cry. The guy who she had ruined her chances with…

It had become too much to bear. She got up to leave.

"This next one's an instrumental."

Julia was half-way to the exit.

"It's dedicated to someone special. You know who you are."

She froze.

"It's called 'Forgiveness'."

She turned around as he began to strum gently. The tune was soft and melancholic. Modest and earnest at the same time. It was … beautiful.

His gaze met hers.

_I'm sorry._

Was he taking off his goggles? He was. He then flung them into the crowd. They flew over the hands of people trying to catch them. Straight into her own.

She returned his smile.

All was well.


	3. Ecstasy

**Author's note:** I've noticed Julia's been doing a lot of crying in the first two one-shots. So, let's have her doing something a little different for this one. ;)

**3. Ecstasy**

Hwoarang loved it when Julia screamed.

Of course, it was a rare occurrence in itself. Unlike a lot of girls Hwoarang knew, Julia didn't freak out at the sight of anything tiny with either scales or multiple legs. Ever the intrepid Nature Girl. She was too realistic to wet her pants during a horror movie. Or, as he glumly noted, even jump into his arms in fright when the psychopathic killer suddenly struck. She would bite her lower lip on roller-coaster rides to stop herself crying out and she scoffed at his 'childish' attempts to scare her into doing so.

However, every tough girl has a chink in her armor and she was definitely no exception to the rule.

It was so fuckin' simple that he hadn't fuckin' realized it.

His bike.

He'd blindfolded her and literally led her to the dragon's nest. It was a warm, sunny day and her face had contrasted beautifully with it as he'd taken off the handkerchief covering her eyes. He could have sworn she'd turned several shades paler than her normal colour when he straddled the two-wheeler and motioned for her to get on behind him.

"B-but you're not wearing a helmet."

"So? Neither are you."

Excuse followed excuse. Motion sickness, safety measures, questionable road conditions. Hwoarang countered each and every one of her flimsy arguments. When she outright refused to get on, he released his secret weapon alongside his infamous smirk.

"Chicken?"

It worked like a charm and he felt her slide in. She probably hoped he couldn't hear her heart screaming out for help. Hah, fat chance. He turned on the ignition and kick-started the machine. As they began to move forward, he could feel her trembling hands.

"Wanna get off now, Princess?"

It was more of a taunt than an actual question. Julia hated being called by that title and she answered with a stubborn "No."

"Suit yourself."

He stepped on the gas. The bike lurched onwards at an acceleration that could have been defined as anything but 'safe'. The road started off straight and smooth but Hwoarang knew a certain detour. From there on, their path would have more twists and turns than a Shyamalan film. He had had a few practice runs on it earlier just to get a feel of his surroundings. Hell, he could have done this in his sleep now.

Not that he was going to let Julia in on that fact.

The first turn was a sharp one. Her arms immediately tightened around his waist. Boy, that felt nice. Yet, not a squeak from her. He silently commended her for that. But there were still more to go…

At the next turn, the tires let out a screech as their friction with the asphalt increased. He let out a grunt as she dug her nails into his sides.

"Hwoarang.."

He couldn't hear her over the roar of the engine and his own blood rushing through his head. The feeling of her warm body pressed closed to his only heightened the adrenalin rush. Oh, it felt _good_. He decided to pick up the pace. The bike seemed to soar with his heartbeat as the speed-meter recorded a new high. He wanted to feel her clutch him harder.

He sensed the anxiety in her breathing as she laid her head on his shoulder. Her hair brushing his neck. The heat from her flushed cheeks. He could almost picture her with her eyes shut tight, her long braid streaming behind her in the breeze, and those luscious lips of hers parted. Sigh, what an aphrodisiac. It took every ounce of the Korean's self-control to resist the urge to turn around and sneak a peek at his unwilling passenger.

But he had a mission to complete. He wanted to make her scream. Just for him.

The twists soon came, fast and hard. More like a Monacan race-track than a road now. Hwoarang turned his attention to the task ahead of him. It was all downhill from now.

"Hang on!"

The wind whistled past his ears and made his eyes water. He felt her head against his back. A familiar wave of pleasure washed over him. Except that it had never overwhelmed him in a situation like this. It was better than any drug or intoxicant known to man. So pure and vibrant. He allowed himself a whoop of laughter not unlike a court jester.

And then he heard it. That sweet, high-pitched sound which had tempted him so.

She screamed.

Ahh, ecstasy. Sheer ecstasy.

Where was a voice-recorder when you needed one?

Now that he thought about it, it was like sex. Minus the actual physical activity of course. And with the retained sensual satisfaction at the end of it all.

The bike gradually began to slow down until he brought it to a halt. Hwoarang turned around.

She probably would have fed him a knuckle-sandwich if he had told her anyway, but he had to admit it. Julia was positively glowing.

But she was also scowling as she dismounted. He had the nerve to flash her a grin.

"You look cute like that."

"Shut up."

"I meant it."

"SHUT UP!"

Suddenly, there he was, blocking her way. Still adorning that mischievous smile of his as he placed an arm around her, pulling her close to him. His lips were a mere few centimeters from hers as he intoned, "You just loved that, didn't you?"

Seconds passed like hours too soon before she woke up from her lust-filled reverie and shoved him aside. He placed his fingers on his lips where they had brushed momentarily with hers as he watched her stride off in the opposite direction.

She'd be back for more. He could bet on it.


	4. Protector

**Author's note:** Feels great to be back! Now, I don't much care for Tekken high-school fics (so immature, in my opinion) but I felt it was an appropriate setting for this one-shot. And you know what? I'm gonna get a lotta flames for this one. Why? Because Ling Xiaoyu has one hell of a fan-club, that's why. Read with an open mind.

**4. Protector**

Nothing like the sound of the last bell of the day to reignite your sweaty and worn-out senses. Classes were out. Guys and girls of varying social groups stuffed books and pens into dusty back-packs and satchels. Jocks on their way to vent out their academic frustrations on a ball of their choice. Cheerleaders in a rush to scoop up their make-up bags and pom-poms to impress their favourite hunk of male beef. Students of a more serious nature were on their way to the library to complete their weekend home-work before the weekend actually started. Some were off to a plethora of meetings and more rehearsals. The rest of the school population had already booked this time for two days of 'well-deserved' R n' R.

Spotting Hwoarang in a crowd was far too easy. Julia could recognize his hair from a mile away. As to why he was arguing with the diminutive Chinese girl was a new mystery.

Her curiosity grew as she closed the distance between her and her red-haired friend.

"You know, it wouldn't kill you to just stay out of our damn business for once!" the Korean yelled.

"Anything involving Jin-kun is my business, you moron!" Xiaoyu returned.

Julia sighed.

_Here we go, again._

"Hi, Julia!"

Julia turned and smiled ruefully at her tomboyish friend.

"Hey, Asuka."

They both winced at Xiaoyu's shrill retort to her adversary's fresh insult. Asuka returned Julia's greeting with a small smile of her own.

"Makes you feel kinda sorry for Hwoarang, doesn't it?"

"I'll say. Care to explain how this started?"

"The usual." Asuka motioned with her head towards her older cousin, Jin. The poor guy was stuck smack-dab in the middle, between the two people who wanted to ensnare his attention for two vastly different purposes. Julia wondered if he wanted to sink right into the very wall he was leaning against. At that moment, Hwoarang wasn't exactly the person she felt any pity for. Her short-haired friend began to elaborate.

"Well, it all started when your boy-toy over there – "

"Hwoarang's _not_ my boy-toy."

"Whatever. It all started when Hwoarang caught up with Jin, demanding his usual rematch and all that. Let's just say, he didn't use the most … _choice_ language."

She was cut off as the high-pitched voice smashed through the air like a dish being hurled. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN I DON'T DESERVE TO BE HERE?!"

"Anyway, guess who stepped in to 'save' her Mr. Wonderful? None other than his number one fan."

"Figures."

"Yeah."

Asuka glanced sympathetically at Jin, who seemed to get more uncomfortable by the second. "Of course, _I _would have stepped in earlier but Jin warned me to keep my nose out of his problems."

As an afterthought, she added, "I wonder why?"

Julia grinned slyly. "Could it be because of last week, when you dared Christie to sit on his lap in the cafeteria?"

"Hey! I was trying to help him get rid of those … those..," Asuka ran her hand through her hair in an attempt to think of a suitable word. "Those … stalkers! Yeah, that's it! Those girls from Xiaoyu and Miharu's clique."

"And it wasn't as if he didn't enjoy it either." A third voice chimed in. The two girls looked up to see the afore-mentioned culprit herself, her face the picture of mirth. "Although, I'm definitely on the 'Most Hated' list of the 'We Love Jin' fan-club for now." This last comment elicited a trio of giggles. The leggy Brazilian then turned her attention to the two Asians launching verbal attacks at each other.

"Hmm, ten bucks that Xiaoyu's going to sink her claws into Hwoarang first."

Julia gazed nervously at the spectacle before them. "I hope it doesn't come to that…"

"Of course not." She turned to one of the two guys who approached them. "Fifteen bucks says that Hwoarang's gonna lose it first." Forrest Law, in turn, shot his companion a look. "What do you say, Steve?"

"Twenty says Jin's gonna deck both of them. Eventually."

"Good ol' passive slash aggressive Jin? Yeah, it could boil down to that." laughed Christie.

"Guys," Julia interrupted. "It's not funny. If Hwoarang gets caught up in another fistfight, it means expulsion for him."

She bit her lip like she always did when she worried. "And I don't want that to happen."

Steve raised a blond eyebrow. "So, what's stopping _you _from stopping _him_?"

Julia sighed for the second time that day. "It's like Asuka's reason. I'm supposed to let him pick his own battles."

Having said that, the group once again focused their attention onto the fight.

Hwoarang and Xiaoyu were both loud and impassioned opponents in any kind of battle. Whether it be verbal or physical. In fact, they seemed to have forgotten about the catalyst for their provocations as he began to slink back further against the vulnerable safety of the grey, brick wall behind him. They had used up most of their ammunition too soon and their faces were flushed and moist from the strain. It would only be a matter of time before the situation could be taken a step further …

The fiery Korean decided to lay down a final warning, "Do you honestly want me to send you home to your parents in the warm, cozy atmosphere of a hearse?"

His voice had gotten low and icy. Julia felt a tremor course through her body. Next to her, she heard Asuka's breath catch in her throat. Hopefully, Xiaoyu would choose the wiser option of surrendering and leaving the rivals to their own devices.

How foolish of her to believe that the pig-tailed girl would have that much sense.

"WELL, AT LEAST I _HAVE _PARENTS!"

She heard Christie gasp. She heard Steve's voice dripping with sarcasm as he intoned, "Yeah, go on. Hit him where it hurts."

Hwoarang's body had stiffened. She could see the fire of rage which had ignited his eyes.

"Is that why you hate Jin? Huh?! That's right because he's everything you're not and everything you never will be!"

Even Jin had noticed how far this had gone.

"Xiaoyu, stop that." he spoke up quietly. For once, the girl ignored him.

"You're just jealous because you're pathetic and stupid and nasty and mean and …" Xiaoyu was running out of breath before she unleashed everything she had. "And you're just a PUNK! YOU HEARD THAT?! A PATHETIC, WEAK PUNK AND NO ONE COULD EVER LIKE YOU!"

A shocked silence fell like a sudden avalanche, crushing everything in its path.

Hwoarang's knuckles had blanched from the pressure. He couldn't feel the pain of the nails on his clenched fists cutting into his palms. The world was silent save for the sound of his own panting. All he knew was that he wanted to hit something. Hard. Very, very hard.

Acting on his basest instincts, he got into his stance. Ready to fight for his pride.

"Hwoarang!"

"Keep outta this, Julia." He growled. Her hands were clasping his wrist. He tried to shake her off but she stayed put.

"I said 'Keep outta this'!"

"You're in enough trouble already."

She placed another hand on his shoulder. Reassuring yet firm.

"Stop. _Just stop_."

He lowered his fists. His body shook from all the suppressed emotions. Julia smiled gently at him.

"Thank you, Hwoarang."

"Aww, what's the matter?" that sickeningly sweet voice piped up again. "Is the mighty Blood Talon too soft to put up a – "

Before anyone could react to the taunt, the slap shot through the air. As quick and painful as a gun-shot.

Julia glared at the whimpering form of Ling Xiaoyu at her feet. Her sudden attack would definitely leave a 'lasting impression'.

"Don't you ever dare judge anyone, and I mean _anyone_, by their pasts _ever_ again. You had absolutely no right to say that to Hwoarang."

She turned on her heel.

"And if I ever hear of you repeating your actions, I'll give you more than a little punch."

Having made her point clear, the Native girl began to stride off in the opposite direction. The crowd of people gathered there were only too eager to give her leeway to pass through.

Hwoarang and the others stood as they were, rooted to the spot. To a passer-by, they looked like wax statues. Complete with emotions ranging from shock (Forrest) to awe (Asuka). Hwoarang was still trying to digest the fact that his friend – his sweet, peaceful friend – had just committed a random act of violence. All in the name of protecting his own fragile dignity. Snapping out of his stunned silence, he picked up his discarded messenger-bag and took off after her.

One by one, the little crowd came out of their reveries. Xiaoyu ran off to resume her tears elsewhere giving Jin the opportunity to finally contemplate the magnitude of the situation.

"It's been an interesting day." He murmured to his audience.

They could all agree on that.

When Hwoarang finally caught up to Julia, he found her leaning against her favourite tree. Her face was against the bark making him wonder if she was upset about what had happened earlier. The girl was still full of surprises…

He placed a hand cautiously on her shoulder. She didn't respond.

"Julia?"

She turned to face him.

"Hwoarang, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have – "

"Shhh.." he silenced her.

It was his turn to surprise her when he drew her into a hug.

"Thank _you_, Julia."


	5. Shelter

**Author's note:** Sorry if I offended any Xiaoyu fans in the last one-shot. Strange as to how many people get away with bashing Julia or Hwoarang in _their_ fics, though. Oh well, _c'est la vie…_

**5. Shelter**

He always reveled in the unpredictability of summer rain. A welcome retreat from the harsh grasp of the sun and the sadism of those stiflingly lazy afternoons. Like the rebel that he was, the dark clouds would rattle the atmosphere as they made their unwanted, unexpected appearance. The sudden strike of neon-coloured lightning akin to the flash of his own red locks. The droplets lashing anything and anyone in their way.

He liked to watch the people run for cover at the sight of impending doom. He enjoyed watching the stern, uptight businessmen swear as they received a drenching from the waves generated from passing cars. And then there were those female shoppers who shrieked at the realization that their mascara was running. The desperation with which they attempted to wipe away the black smudges forming under their eyes only made him laugh even more. Like a school-child, he'd splash a random puddle just because it was there. Like a mad-man, he'd wade through the streets in an arrogant, playful act of defiance. Like the boy he had once been, he'd laugh like he knew he could.

And when the sun came out again, he'd absorb the smells and colours of a moist, clean world for one last time until the next storm took place. Like the surrounding water, he evaporated until his next incarnation.

Sometimes, the rain never came. Then, he had no respite from the rays which burnt his skin, making him sweat, bringing him once again to the realization that he was only human. Flesh and blood. Born to be wild. To make mistakes. In the grand scheme of things, he was a tiny sliver of moisture in this ever-changing sky called life.

Just a man. Just Hwoarang.

Today was another one of those hot, humid, unbearable days. That damn yellow sphere up there, smiling down at the mere mortals too cheerfully and unmercifully for its own good. Its gaze was unrelenting and unforgivable. That's summer for you. Poets adore her and sing her praises on paper. In real life, she turns out to be the biggest bitch you've ever met. Like one of those preppy high-school class president types now that he thought about it. Another one of life's lemons.

Searching for shade on a summer day is like seeking love in a night-club on a Saturday .

Nobody seems willing to offer some.

He'd seen her there, right under that old tree, knees drawn up to her chin. Her smooth, sun-touched skin like a baby's in comparison to the old, twisted bark. Eyes full of a sweet serenity from a world only she knew of. Sweet as in like honey, nectar. Not the packaged artificiality of white sugar with its insipid toxicity. Honey. Pure, untouched, virginal, immaterial. Like a thirsty bee, he was drawn to the scent of the flower she had to offer. So, he'd sat next to her. She hadn't seemed to mind. Perhaps she didn't notice him. More likely, she probably never gave a damn. For once, he was grateful for that. Her ignorance gave him time to think.

The next day, she was in the same position. Were it not for her change in attire, he would have assumed that she had never left her little oasis. When he sat next to her once more, he inhaled her presence. In this way, he could make she'd leave her impression on him. Without him having to tarnish that innate purity of hers. She smelt like dying fir-trees. It seemed harsh but it felt like a good description to him. Now the question was, how could something, or someone in this case, so obviously among the living carry the aroma of death about them? Furthermore, how could the scent of death be akin to an aroma so innocent yet frighteningly tempting?

_How?_

He'd sounded out the word unconsciously. She turned around at the sound. Her gaze was curious. Eyes darker than his. But just as many secrets within. He could tell. After all, didn't it take one to know one? Questions, so many fuckin' questions. Answers, answers, _answers_, their hearts screamed out. The look he gave her must have matched his intensity because she shied away from his path of vision.

_I guess she likes her privacy._

A sudden gust of wind took them both by surprise. Man, summer had plenty of tricks up her long, voluminous sleeves. Whilst he pulled his jacket closer around him, he noticed her bare arms and shoulders. In the weak light of the declining day, they looked as white and wispy as the scarce clouds at this time of the year. He could hear her, _feel _her, as she shivered. She drew her knees back into their familiar position. He didn't know how long she planned to remain here but the fact was that if it got colder …

She looked surprised as he placed the black, worn-out jacket over her shoulders. He felt her questioning gaze on his retreating form.

"By the way, I'm Hwoarang."

Another dry, intolerable day dawned. Another visit to the one place where he could find solace. There she was, just as expected. She handed him his jacket with a quiet "Thank you."

As he took his place next to her, he made sure that her gaze was averted before he let his eyes shamefully rove over that pristine body of hers. Her skin in its soft peach undertones gave him a warmth that was not unpleasant. This feeling, … ethereal, touching, gentle like a mother's goodnight kiss. The secret thrill of exploring forbidden territory. She was his first real obsession and she hadn't even the slightest clue. How ironic, considering that he barely knew her.

But maybe he did. _Know _her, that is. He knew that pain in her eyes. Hidden from the world, a haunted soul. He knew because he could see himself in those dark, mesmerizing eyes. They were the same, really. She had known real sorrow too. Her pain was his pain. And all he wanted to do now was save her from drowning in that very same void which had almost asphyxiated him not too long ago. It was almost tragic to him that he saw himself as her only 'white knight'.

And in that moment, he realized that he would do anything for her. So foolish of him, his mind told him. He didn't even know this woman. His heart told him otherwise. Heh, he could always count on that part of his persona …

"Are you in pain?" he had to ask.

Moments filled with trepidation passed before she answered him in the smallest of voices.

"Yes."

He resisted the mad urge to suddenly take her in his arms and fly her off into a safer place. They could be like those birds in the distance, escaping to an unknown horizon full of new promises and dreams. What on earth was so special about her that inspired him to think such thoughts? Dare to dream, dare to feel. Sensations as entrapping and bittersweet as a winter sunset. Love is not full of candy-floss and carasol-rides. An entity in itself, it either heals or kills you. That was the raw truth of it all.

"My mother would bring me out here to play and look at the trees. When I was a little girl."

Ah, sentimental value. Long lost memories of laughter and smiles. _That _was what was bothering her. Pining for the past. Wasn't that it?

"So, where _is _your mother now?"

Was she home, bed-ridden? Dying of an incurable disease? Far away, in a another country? Or …

"She's in a wooden casket. Buried six feet under a pile of dirt."

Oh, shit …

Not surprisingly, she stood up to leave. She took a few steps forward before turning to look at him. One last time.

"By the way, I'm Julia."

_No…_

He repeated her name over and over again that night so that he would never forget the damage he had wrought. In this way, she'd stay in his heart. Etched on his skin, like a tattoo. He dreamt of her, smiling and laughing as he chased her. Blue skies and cool breezes. Taunting him, teasing him, torturing him. What a fool he had been. Like a leech, he'd attached himself to her presence, feeding off her silent comfort and beauty. Oh,_ what a fool he had been._

It was raining when he awoke. For most people, it was an ill omen. A sign of some great misery to come.

But Hwoarang wasn't one of most people.

He needed to find her. To make amends for his sins. It was only her rain that could wash them away. Cleanse him and make him whole once more.

_Julia, Julia, Julia._

Fate brought them together the first time. It would reunite them again.

He knew where to go.

When he reached the cemetery, he was soaked to the bone. Cold and desperate, he made his way over to her.

There she was. Under an umbrella, shrouded in black. She was kneeling at a tomb-stone, her hand caressing the grey stone, tracing the inscription. At the sound of foot-steps, she looked up in surprise.

"You came."

He was staggering as he moved closer to her. She smelt the moisture from his clothes, heard his ragged breathing, felt his heat as he wrapped his arms around her, tasted the water on his lips…

The umbrella slipped unnoticed from her grasp as she accepted his apology.

The skies continued to shed their tears of joy as they both found the shelter they had been looking for. 


	6. Intoxicant

**Author's note:** Now for something more darker… Kinda short but I hope you enjoy.

**6. Intoxicant**

Water or wine. Wine or water.

According to her, all men fit into either one of those two categories. For a woman, it is a simple matter of deciding which goes where.

Water. Plain, transparent, polite, bland, wholesome. The type whom you could safely take home to your mother and not expect an instant rebuttal of sorts. The nice boy-next-door, the good guy.

Wine. Opaque, raunchy, sensual, addictive, dangerous. The type whom you could safely take home to bed and not expect any attachments thereafter. The loose guy from around-the-corner, the bad boy.

Girls like her were expected to conform to society and abstain from the latter. Stick with the sweet, shy boys and you'd be safe from harm's long reach. That's what they told her. Water was good for you. Cleans out the toxins and purifies the system. Wine is 'bad'. Puts you under a spell and uses you until you're left useless. The two are as distinguishable as right is from left. Julia Chang was a good girl in the truest sense of the word.

At least, that was the label which society had bestowed upon her. Little Miss Environmentally-Friendly Goody-Two-Shoes who apparently wouldn't even harm a fly. Literally.

She let them make their cardboard assumptions. Humans are a species inclined to stereotypes anyway. There is more to her than what meets the eye and she knows it. It was just too much of a bother to explain most of her actions to an audience obsessed with the flawed as they were with the perfect. Thus, she falls gracefully into her respective category. Unresponsive. Unperturbed.

Until one day. When all the high, inaccessible walls she had devoted years to building came crashing down. Leaving her open and vulnerable to emotion.

That was that the day she had met _him_.

Him, with his sly smile and burning stare. His suggestive jokes and infuriating chuckle. His body, like a god's …

She hates these alien feelings which he makes her inhale with his scent. Spicy, musky, troublesome. He thinks he's every woman's dream. Hmph, she tells him she prefers insomnia.

And insomnia she endures. She would do whatever it took to avoid him in her slumber. She absolutely refused to let him invade her privacy so soon. Loss of sleep could be compensated by afternoon naps. The dark circles under her eyes can be concealed. However, her strength disintegrates with the Sandman's call and she has no choice but to succumb to the hypnotism of crimson locks and almost-amber eyes. She hates to be teased like this. Yet, she curses the morning sunlight which awakens her. Its warm fingers only serving as a reminder of the one thing she wants but can't have.

Wild creatures cannot be caught, kept in cages, and segregated into man-made groups. They are meant to run free and create all manner of beautiful types of chaos on their own. They refuse to be controlled or tamed. It goes against their natural instincts. Somehow, this all fits in with her situation. With her feelings. With him. _For _him.

Spirits …

His name conjures up visions of warriors and blood-stained pasts.

_Hwoarang. _

Fear, lust, mystery, deep, dark, dangerous. Words which are banished from 'The Good Girl's Guide to Vocabulary'. A name to be spoken out only in whispers. Whisper into your pillow in the dark of the night and up to the cascade of water in your shower …

_Hwoarang._

His name is sensual on her tongue. She calls out to him in her sleep. She awakens cursing his presence and absence.

When she falls and skins her knees, he is first on hand to administer the needful. Every brush of his skin against hers sets her senses ablaze. She wonders if her skirt is too short as he cleanses her bloodied wounds with water. He smiles and reprimands her for being a 'clumsy little girl'. It irritates her and she begins to wonder if the skirt was too long after all.

'_Clumsy little girl', my eye._

Is that what she is to him? A little girl? Just a stupid, insignificant little girl? As she ponders this, she realizes that she, Julia Chang of all people, had fallen into his innocuous trap. A fly caught in a spider-web, struggling to break free. Albeit, halfheartedly.

He is as intoxicating as any vintage wine yet he retains a faint purity to his aura. A tarnished, tainted purity but purity nonetheless. Appearing simple to the untrained eye but strip away the layers of arrogance and audacity and behold the complicated mess of a man. The tables are turned as she picks him apart with her camouflaged powers of observation. To separate the water from the wine.

Anger, confusion, pride, pain. Emotions which she could already call acquaintances. It is now his turn to be infuriated at the invasion of privacy. Back and forth, it went between them. A psychological duel of sorts. To and fro. Catch and release. Verbal hits and misses. Poisonous glances. Seductive grins. He tainted. She purified. Neither would give in until the other would.

Blood is drawn, harsh truths are revealed. Tears are shed, guilt washes over them. Apologies are uttered discreetly, promises are made in private.

An agreement is made.

It is solidified behind closed doors and beneath scarlet sheets. The bond of enemies is broken. A new, stronger one is formed. Physical, emotional, spiritual.

Sometimes, she wonders if it is worthwhile. There are still so many things left unspoken and ambiguous. He whispers sweet nothings in her ear, drawing her in closer. They are drowning in each other. Sometimes, they realize they need the oxygen. On the other hand, they wish to remain foolish and suffocate. Love takes its toll but they can live with the suffering. Because to bleed is a sure sign of devotion. To hurt is to understand, to empathize, to _feel_.

Love … takes time. Or it can happen in an instant. Love can ache, love can heal. It cannot be so easily understood. But they have time to spare …

He smiles gently and she sighs into his shoulder.


	7. Sunshine

**Author's note:** First of all, I'd like to dedicate this one-shot to the following people; **Sage Pagan, Razer Athane, The Strawberry Cupcake, M.M. Richter-XII, AngelEyes87, and Melody of the Sea**. Why just you guys? Because you liked my story 'Ties of a Promise' so much that you faved it! THANK YOU!! So, you , along with anyone else who read that story, might be able to recognize the main 'subject' of this little narrative. It may not be a Hwoarang/Julia story in the truest sense but I do hope you enjoy. Oh, and one more thing, **I have a new poll up on my profile.**

**7. Sunshine**

Goodnight sweetheart. Pleasant dreams.

Aww, you look so adorable in your little white pajamas. Feathery black eye-lashes, inky black hair streaming on your pillow. Fifteen months ago, you were a tiny, helpless, squirming bundle that a doctor in a white coat had placed in my arms. Your black hair was soft and tufty back then. Sort of like a 'faux hawk' as your Dad put it, haha. Then you opened your eyes. And all I could do was lie there and stare at you in wonder because… you looked so beautiful. At that moment, I understood why every mother thinks their baby is the best thing that ever happened to them. Clichéd but true. Unfortunately, you ruined the moment by opening up your _lungs _as well. Yet, I still loved every moment of the day you were born.

Fifteen months later, you're still a beauty. And, according to Baek, a 'holy terror'. But that's okay because it's one of those things I love about you. Even if you do like to stick your fingers where they don't belong and upturn every container in sight. Perhaps it's because you remind me of your father when you do such things. That mischievous grin of yours also doesn't really make it any easier for me to punish as I should. That, and Daddy covering up for you. Sigh, you two are a _pair_.

_Soon-Yi._

Did you know that your name means 'this goddess'? _God_, that's a tough title to live up to. My name only means 'downy-faced' (I'm not sure whether that's supposed to be good or not). Maybe it's a good thing we decided to nickname you 'Sunny'. Soon-Yi is one hell of a tongue-twister if you say it in a hurry.

But what's in a name? It's just another word. Distinguishing one person from the next.

Could a name as divine as yours reflect who you are as a person? I suppose not. I used to think Nina was a pretty name until I met the woman herself. I can't say the word in front of you. For all I know, you might only be pretending to be asleep. Wait a minute, … yes, you_ are _pretending! I see you laughing now!

Well, let's just say that she wasn't as pretty on the inside as she was in person. I thought Hwoarang was an odd name until I met him myself…

But that's another story. I'll tell you about that when you're older.

Then again, who am I to judge another? I am just a woman myself. I laugh, I cry, I make mistakes, I learn from them.

When I set my mind on something, I do whatever it takes to achieve my goals. When I fight, my soul lies behind every strike. When I love somebody, I do so with my whole heart.

I hope you know that, little one.

I know your father does.

It's strange how someone so willing to say whatever's on his _mind _can shy away from what his _heart_ wants to say.

There were times when he hurt me and there were times when I hurt him. We were both young, naïve, and selfish. People used to say that we were 'short-term', 'just a fling', 'platonic'. They told me to forget about him and 'go date someone from Yale'.

Fortunately for you, I never took their advice.

Beyond those petty arguments, beyond those long periods of silences and sulking, I loved him. So much so that it hurt.

Unfortunately, I was too blinded my own pride to realize that.

The wake-up call came when he was injured in a fight. As he lay there unconscious, _I_ _knew_.

Those three days seem like a bad dream now. I pleaded, I cried, I prayed to every spirit in existence to bring him back. I can't count the number of times I told him I loved him. It seemed like a mantra in my head. Sleep was the last thing on my mind. The only thing I knew was that, even though I _could _live without him, … I didn't _want _to.

When he finally came to, he smiled at me. He'd throw away his arrogant smirks to simpering, giggly girls but he saved his smiles for _me_.

Boy, that had been good to know.

What happened next? _You _happened next.

You like it when I nuzzle my nose against yours, don't you darling?

I love that you have such a gorgeous smile. And Daddy's eyes too. I guess you'll grow up to be a real man-killer, huh? We'll have our work cut out, keeping the boys away from you..

I wonder who you'll grow up to be. Would you be smart and serious like me? Would you be a cool rebel like Dad? Or would you grow up to be… you?

The world is a violent and cruel place. You have to be strong to survive because life is so often cruel. I know that now. Daddy had a tough life too. More tougher than most people know. That's why he loves you so much. I can see it the way he makes you laugh and squirbs your tummy. He's almost as silly as you are sometimes. But you love him even more for that, don't you? Yes, you do.

But whatever happens, we'll always be there for you. Body and soul.

Always remember that, Sunny.

You make Mommy and Daddy very happy. Love you for that.

Goodnight, sleep tight.

Thank you, Sunshine.


	8. Soulmates

**Author's note:** Ah, the grand finale! And what better way to celebrate than to bring back Hwoarang's ever-popular 'rockstar' avatar? Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed. Dedicated to all you rockin' Hwoa/Jules fans on the site! Watch out for a new pairing in the next installment.

**8. Soulmates**

_Broken, this fragile thing now_

_And I can't, I can't pick up the pieces._

_And I've thrown my words all around,_

_But I can't, I can't give you a reason._

_I feel so broken up (so broken up),_

_And I give up (I give up),_

_I just want to tell you so you know …_

_Here I go, _

_Scream my lungs out and try to get to you,_

_**You are my only one.**_

_I let go,_

_**There's no one who gets me like you do**_

_**You are my only,**_

_**My only one.**_

Only One (Yellowcard)

* * *

He needed a drink.

Good thing for him, she was on hand to offer him one.

"Thanks, Julia." He rasped gratefully before downing the iced water in a single gulp.

"No problem." She replied with a smile. "That was one hell of a performance you put up."

"Not to mention 'exhausting'."

"The crowd loves you, though." She paused to wipe away the beads of sweat from his forehead with a napkin.

Hwoarang couldn't get enough of the way she touched him. One hand wielding the cloth over his moist skin, the other resting on his shoulder. Reassuring him in preparation for the next set, psyching him up for the task at hand. It was a feeling he couldn't put into words but it felt great all the same. She did that to him every time they touched. Oddly enough, she herself never knew of her effect on him. It just added to that quiet charm of hers.

"There, all done." She whipped away the napkin with a flourish, flashing that cute grin of hers. His heart gave a little flutter of its own.

How long had it been? Six years since they'd met in high-school. Two years since he'd kissed her on an angst-filled impulse in his garage. Five days later, he'd flung his beloved goggles to her in a night-club where his band had been playing so that she'd know he still cared. They'd had their second kiss right after that. The next day, they'd gone out on their first date. A week later, they'd enjoyed their 'first time' together on the woven rug in her room. Another week later, she moved in with him.

Time sure flies by when you're having a good time.

Of course, it hadn't always been sunshine and butterflies. He'd still carried the demons of his past in his mind. Sometimes, he'd let them overwhelm him, driving him to say things he didn't mean and actions which he soon came to regret. He was terribly flawed and it was a heavy burden for one pair of shoulders to bear. In his own heart, he knew he was selfish, spiteful, unreasonable, self-centered, arrogant, miserable, and a whole other variety of undesirables.

And, in spite of all he had put her through and the fights that had ensued, she'd forgiven him. She, the only one who could see through the gimmickry he put on to fool others. Her tears like rain on parched earth when she held him during one of those dark, sightless days. Light in the dark. Precious air. Shade from the searing heat of blind judgment and harsh criticism of those more ignorant.

He'd been with many women before her. Women more glamorous and daring than she ever could be.

But they'd only loved the Blood Talon.

Julia loved Hwoarang. Weaknesses and all.

She'd seen the good that nobody could have.

And for that, he couldn't thank her enough.

But tonight, he had the opportunity to do just that.

"Yo, Hwoarang! We're on!" Kim the drummer poked his head in the door-way. Julia took this as her cue to take her place in the awaiting audience.

"Have fun, see ya!" she winked at him.

"Not if I see you first." He responded with a wink of his own.

Hwoarang soon joined Kim and bassist, Jeung, on stage. The crowd looked a little worn out from the energetic set that had preceded this one. However, they immediately perked up on catching sight of Sky Rush's captivating lead vocalist. Joyful hoots began to pepper the polite applause. The fan-girls resumed their usual screams and high-pitched 'We love you, Hwoarang!' chants. The red-head noted the look of annoyance that passed over his girlfriend's face when she heard the latter. Heh, it always amused him that she still felt a touch of jealousy towards a couple of under-age bimbos. She knew she was in an altogether different league from theirs. A little reassuring was all she needed.

"Hey.." Hwoarang had to stop mid-sentence as the fans began to whoop with varying degrees of delight and intoxication. Further attempts to speak were drowned out by a tsunami of yells and hollers. Normally, he would have given them an earful of expletives to subdue them but he was still a bit tired from earlier…

Thank God that Asuka Kazama was such a loudmouth. Her "SHUT THE FUCK UP" would have been enough to quell a prison riot. It definitely cast its spell on the rowdy audience.

"Thank you, Asuka. Much appreciated." Hwoarang began once again, "Anyways, it's request time. So you're all welcome to ask as to play anything you damn like. As long as it's not something like the Backstreet Boys, - "

"Awww…" Ling Xiaoyu and her coterie of friends moaned.

" – or any type of rap or disco – "

"Screw you." Muttered Lee Chaolan from the front row.

" – or anything by some depressed Brit-rock band – "

"HEY!" Steve Fox yelled from the back.

" – we'll play it."

In a matter of seconds, the crowd was whipped up into a frenzy again. Random song titles were flung at the stage like bouquets. Bands and singers ranging from Bon Jovi to Fall Out Boy. It was almost like a game of 'match-the-following', MTV style.

"ONLY ONE, YELLOWCARD!!"

Hwoarang turned to look at the magenta-haired girl on his right who had called out the suggestion.

That song, … it was _perfect_.

"Yellowcard it is."

As he began to strum the familiar tune on the strings of his signature yin-yang guitar, he knew whose face to focus on. As their eyes met, he realized that he'd better use this one chance to finally tell her, _show_ her, what she meant to him …

"_Broken, this fragile thing now…"_

This time, he put everything he had into it. Joy, passion, need, desire, fear, want, _love_. Gone was his past exhaustion. If he didn't get his message through to her now, he never would. Lost in a world of their own, he poured out his soul to her. If she couldn't hear what his heart had to say now then he had failed.

And he just wouldn't let that happen.

His fingers stung from the burn of the wires. Fuck, his lungs ached too. But he wouldn't give in to the pain like he had in the past.

He could see the glow in her eyes and smile now.

_Yes._

She knew.

The song ended on a high and the applause exploded through the room like fire-works. Hwoarang could barely muster an emphatic "Thank you."

"You know we love taking your requests. Man, the things you guys put us through." This last comment aroused a spate of giggles.

"So," he paused to regain his breath. And composure.

"I have something to request from someone."

People began to lean forward in curiosity, resulting in a sort of ripple through the audience. Even Jeung and Kim exchanged a puzzled glance before turning to their band-leader.

Hwoarang left the mic on its stand and removed the guitar from across his body.

With a jump, he was off the stage. He practically sauntered over to where Julia stood in her sky-blue dress.

She looked beautiful with her hair loose. But then again, she was beautiful no matter what.

She also looked confused.

"Hwoarang? What are you …"

He took a deep breath. "Julia, you know I love you."

Her face flushed pink. "You just showed me right now."

"So, would you spend the rest of your life with me?"

Pause.

"Are you …"

She soon lost all remnant of speech as she watched him sink down to one knee. And when he pulled out the blue sapphire ring, she was on the verge of tears.

"Would you?"

He got his answer when she flung her tearful self into his arms, almost knocking the wind out of him.

The club burst into cheers and catcalls. There were 'whoots' and cries for celebrations. Asuka and Christie began a terribly off-key version of 'Here comes the bride' accompanied by Eddy using the table as a makeshift drum. Jeung and Kim let out Korean victory cries of "MANSEI!" from their perch on the stage. Steve and Lee began to open up freshly-shaken bottles of champagne, soaking an annoyed Jin in the process. A few of Hwoarang's fan-girls actually began to sob at the loss of his bachelorhood.

Not that either he or Julia remembered any of that as they walked home hand-in-hand.

The sky was a dark blue. Almost black. No light save for a lone crescent.

"Jules?"

"Yeah?"

"You never really answered my question back there."

"I was too busy admiring this ring you got me."

"Before or after you tackled me?"

She giggled as she wrapped her arms around him. "I thought you already knew the answer."

He nuzzled his nose into the top of her head. "I want to hear you say it."

She looked up and whispered it straight into his eyes.

"Yes."

"I love you, Julia." He replied as he kissed her softly.

"Mm, I love you too, Hwoarang."

They both stood there for a while, holding each other, before resuming their walk.

So many things waiting to be discovered and experienced. Dark clouds and thunder-storms to endure. Monsoon rains and sudden bursts of sunlight to enjoy. But they knew they could do it. Their love was pure and true. Times and tides may change yet it would be the one constant in their lives.

After all, love is limitless and infinite.

Like the sky.


End file.
